


or what's a heaven for?

by tielan



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 04:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10268651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: Jyn has learned not to reach for anything, because it won’t be there for long.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have had such trouble writing smut for this PB. All I seem to want to do is write interaction and angst right now; so this is mostly interaction with some smut at the end.
> 
> Prompt: soft.

Jyn has learned not to reach for anything, because it won’t be there for long.

And it would be easy to forget that they nearly died on Scarif. That she thought he was dead on Scarif. That they thought they were going to die in the blast from the Death Star. ‘Battle-blood’ does things to the mind, and so does shared conspiracy.

Cassian has retreated, back to the reserved Captain Andor – oh, they’re friendly, but those brief, intense days as Rogue One are gone, along with the men whose lives bought them time to transmit the plans to the waiting ships.

Jyn knows better than to think that Captain Andor

 _it’s better to think of him that way_  
_Cassian is the man who welcomed her home_  
_Captain Andor is the man who’s been in the Rebellion since he was six_

would really be interested in the daughter of the man who created the Death Star.

Still, she hopes.

* * *

Grief is not rational.

Jyn knows she should not grieve the father who helped the Empire, but she longs for the father who she lost all those years ago. The Alderaani know she’s not to blame for what the Death Star did, but the Empire is not here and she is.

“You’re out of line, Sairgon,” Cassian tells the Lieutenant, harshness exacerbating his accent. “I’ll make allowances for grief, but this had better not happen again.”

Rank is a complicated thing among the Rebels, but Cassian has some cachet. Enough that the man swallows down the rest of his tirade and stumbles off, aided by an older man who shoots Jyn a look that might be an apology

 _this is my daughter – she was thirteen_  
_my partner and his mother – your father’s weapon—_  
_how dare you live when my Arron is dead!_

or might be a frown.

She presses her lips together and takes another gulp of lomin-ale.

“Grief’s a cruel master.” Wedge drains his glass and sets it on the table with a thump. “But I’ll have a word with his senior about counselling.”

He grips Jyn on the shoulder

 _I have a favour to ask of you_  
_you might think it a bit morbid but it’s, well—_  
_Luke and I were thinking of renaming Red Squadron_

and she leans into the touch, wanting that small reassurance that she’s not the monster, daughter of a monster, who served monsters, and created a monster that destroyed worlds.

He goes, and Cassian falls silent. Jyn stirs a finger through the snacks in the bowl, watching the mix shift with the passage of her hand.

Sometimes she wonders what she’s still doing here.

Sure, General Cracken was more than a little interested in her previous sabotage skills

 _you were with Saw when he targeted the Corellian business council_  
_is it true he co-opted the security guards by getting one of his own in?_  
_so you’d have seen the control room, know its layout_

and the women of the Rebellion are more than a little happy to have her among their number

 _oh thank the force, someone who’ll be practical rather than egotistical_  
_viewing of Double Or Nothing – come for the pretty actor; stay for the propaganda mockage_  
_do you have any idea where you can get a drink on Caskatar without being harassed by pilots?_

but sometimes, in spite of having found the Rebellion, of feeling the rightness of this fight, Jyn just feels adrift.

Cassian’s fingers close around her wrist. “Jyn. Don’t listen to them. Your father fought. You fought. You’ll keep on fighting.”

And then there are the moments when she feels anchored, like nothing could tear her away.

Jyn looks into Cassian’s face and smiles, and he suddenly looks down and away and releases her wrist, drawing his hand back. Without thinking, she reaches for him, reaches out

 _the weight of him against her shoulder_  
_the warmth of him against her side_  
_the scent of sweat and laser fire and relief_

and catches his fingers in hers – then realises her hand is grubby with salt and seasonings from the snacks and tries to pull away.

He doesn’t let her go, lacing their fingers together, his gaze bright and naked beyond their clasped hands.

“Jyn. I didn’t ask before—”

“Yes.” Her cheeks burn with shame and eagerness.

He blinks, and his expression opens, surprise and disbelief, and a growing delight. “Yes?”

She leans over their intertwined hands and kisses his knuckles. “Yes.”

* * *

He crowds her down into the mattress, their clothes swiftly stripped before they climbed into bed. Cassian’s all lean muscle and long limbs, but also somehow soft as Jyn runs her hands over what she can reach – throat and shoulders, spine and back and buttocks. Their kisses start slow and easy, soft sweetnesses exchanged in intimate heat as they learn what the other likes.

They start exploring each other. Cassian quivers when she runs her fingers down the line of muscle that stretches from his hip down to his groin. Jyn groans when he sucks her nipple in between his lips, then adds teeth for an edge. She rolls him over, and measures him in her hand, propped up on one arm so she can see his face. Just as he can see hers when he slides his fingers through the curls of her pubis and explores her with the same lazy pleasure, until the ache is sharp as a vibroblade.

“May I?”

Jyn lets him roll her under, angles her hips to fit him, then exalts in the rush of sensation as they join together

_welcome home_

deep and pleasurable, and somehow fitting—

He moves in her, she moves against him. She giggles when he jerks as she gooses him, and writhes when he skates his fingers sharply down her sides. Cassian laughs when she whines that he’s taking too long, but his thrusts become subtly uncontrolled, and she can feel him tremble - on the verge, but holding back—

And when she's close, she guides his hand to her clit to kick her into spinning, spiralling orbit with the tender timbre of his voice roughening as he comes, too—

* * *

She waits out in the corridor as he grabs a fur-lined jacket and shrugs into it, then closes up behind him. Cassian doesn’t take her hand, or slide an arm around her waist, but he stops in the corridor to look at her, and his mouth tips up at the corners, waiting for her return smile before he nudges her along.

Jyn has learned not to reach for anything, because it won’t be there for long.

She doesn’t reach for Cassian now.

But she walks with him, shoulder to chest, all the way to the mess hall and dinner.

 


End file.
